1954
by IlovesMesomeGlee
Summary: A chance encounter six years prior catches two teen boys up on lost time. Rated T (for now) Rated M in later chapters. Smythofsky. Klaine Completely AU. Angst, Drama and Humor and Romance. I don't own Glee.


**AN: Happy Holidays Everyone! :)**

 **I hope your all doing well. So before the year ends, I decided to start another story. :)**

 **I hope that's ok. This idea came to me one day and I HAD to write it. Lol**

 **Story for now is Rated T. In later chapters, it WILL be Rated M.**

 **This starts in 1954.**

 **Lots of Drama, angst, humor and even MORE angst. I hope you all like it. Thank you! If you have questions, PLEASE let me know. I'll try my best to answer them. Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**

Chapter 1

"Go soak your head!"

"David!" Paul admonished. "Language!"

"Awww, he's just sore!"

"No, you are, young man! Now keep up. We'll be late."

"Awww!"

Dave didn't like his dad yelling at him. He didn't like it very much indeed. But the punk across the street teased him and the boy just had to defend himself.

Dave looked down. His eight-year old toes stuck out of the holes in his shoes and he grimaced at them. It's a good thing it wasn't too cold outside or his little toes would curl up and die. At least, that's what he thought as he crossed Market Street, holding his dad's hand along the way. And his clothes were in good shape. You could only barely see the seven patches on his khaki trousers and the cut on the armpit of his t-shirt would be fixed soon.

Paul didn't see any of this. Instead, he galloped onto the sidewalk and released his son's hand.

"Now, remember son." Paul began, "You can always rely on three phrases in our profession."

Dave didn't even look up, favoring skipping along the lines of the sidewalk blocks. "What's a 'phrase'?"

Paul grimaced. "David! Pay attention!"

His son immediately looked up at the towering figure of his father and said nothing. It was only a bit of a challenge to keep up with his dad as they approached Metcalf Street. But the young lad tried.

"Now, as I was saying," Paul said, "there are three…things you should remember when you take over my business. One, always tell women they look thin. Two, if the pants are too long, suggest saddle shoes, and three… Dave? Are you listening?"

The boy was transfixed by one of the newer things he'd never seen before – a revolving door. He was looking at the Lima Public Library and Dave almost smiled in wonder at the technological tool. Dave didn't really understand it and studied it further, from afar.

"David Alan Karofsky!"

Immediately, the boy returned to his dad's stern face.

"How are you going to learn anything," Paul said, "if you don't listen?"

"OK."

"Now," his dad said, resuming their walk. "do you remember what I was saying?"

Dave stared at the door a little longer and then ran to catch up to him. "Yup!"

"OK, what did I say?"

Dave put his index finger on his chin. "Tell girls they're thin and saddle shoes help."

Paul sighed. "More or less. But there's one more thing you must remember."

Dave said nothing.

But Paul suddenly stopped and faced his only son. "Lie."

"What?!"

"That's right, son." Paul resumed walking and once again, the boy ran to keep pace. "Lie. Tell people they look good even when they don't. Money and pride are the same. You need money to live and you can always invent pride. Find something good to say about a customer and you'll have them like puddy in your hands…"

"I don't like silly puddy." Dave whined.

Paul smirked. "Well, you'll like money…when you're older." Suddenly, they came to a stop. "Ah! We're here."

Dave peered up at the structure he'd only seen a few dozen times before. Near the historic MacDonell House stood the modest brick building that was "Karofsky Tailoring." A slant cathedral roof hovered over a set of ordinary windows. Steam from the interior radiator made it difficult to see inside, but the one-story structure wasn't big enough to have any real security issues. Dave was soon bored and followed his dad to the front door. When Paul opened the door, the manager of his shop was already there and was dealing with a customer.

Unfortunately, it didn't appear to be going very well.

From the moment they entered his dad's shop, a man in a fine suit was gesturing wildly at Bob, Paul's poor manager. This man was clean shaven and smelled weird. He wouldn't know it yet, but this customer wore Brooks Brothers cologne. He had an air of authority to him much like his dad, but it's not like this man garnered any respect from the little tyke. Dave didn't like him. The man was so loud and gregarious that Dave wanted to cover his ears. He barely noticed his dad marching right up to the front desk and intervening.

"Can I help you, sir?" Paul said.

This man took slight offense and eyed Paul up and down. "I think not. This little…person is helping me just fine."

But Bob ran a hand through his red hair and implored to his supervisor, something that often happens in customer service. And Paul, ever the salesman, approached this with calm and a permagrin that could make James Dean proud.

"It's quite alright." Paul congenially said. "I'm Paul Karofsky, the owner here."

The man shifted his tone and his body directly towards him and a soft sigh escaped Bob's mouth. Dave was quickly bored. He heard a few things here and there. The boy had heard conversations like this one before and this was nothing new to him. Nevertheless, Dave didn't exactly know what to do and he watched the interaction with a mixture of awe and detachment.

"Well then," the upper class customer said, "I think you should know that I'm quite displeased with the service I have accepted here recently.

"It's quite alright." Paul congenially said. "I'm Paul Karofsky, the owner here."

The man shifted his tone and his body directly towards him and a soft sigh escaped Bob's mouth. Dave was quickly bored. He heard a few things here and there. The boy had heard conversations like this one before and this was nothing new to him. Nevertheless, Dave didn't exactly know what to do and he watched the interaction with a mixture of awe and detachment.

"Well then," the upper class customer said, "I think you should know that I'm quite displeased with the service I have accepted here recently."

"Oh, I'm very sorry, sir. We'll see to it that you get the newest and best tailoring this town has to offer!"

"Well, I should hope so." The bastard said. "In the meantime, I want a new shirt with exactly seven buttons on them. Not eight! Not six! Seven! And when I need a collar stud, I'll ask for one!"

"Of course." Paul agreed, taking the garment from the counter. He then addressed Bob. "Will you take these to the back please? I'll work on them myself."

"Right now, I presume?" the man asked.

Paul extended his hands earnestly. "Of course. I'd be more than happy to-"

"Good." He interrupted, putting on his Bowler hat. "I'll be more than happy to wait."

Paul bit his lower lip and looked down. "Of course. Feel free to look around the store for any other clothes you may wish-"

"No need," he said, with a modest hand wave. "Everything here is so…common."

Paul let it go and retreated to the back, leaving Bob at the counter and Dave in the store. Bob pretended to be going over that morning's receipts, so the man looked around the shop mainly out of boredom. His eyes fell on Dave and the little boy didn't like this at all. The stuffy customer looked him up and down and grimaced at the toes sticking out of the boy's shoes. Scowling, he returned his gaze up to the boy's eyes. Dave wanted to look elsewhere, but there was something about this man that didn't quite add up. How could a man be so cruel to his daddy?

 _GO SOAK YOUR HEAD_ , Dave thought. But he didn't say anything. Instead, the man forced a grin on his face and turned his attention to some narrow ties. That's when Dave felt something hit his foot. He looked down and saw a bright red toy pickup truck. Dave's eyes went wide and he stuck his tongue between his teeth. The boy retrieved it and looked at it.

It was a little scuffed but appeared to be new. The flatbed would be a perfect place to put his marbles or jacks or trading cards or Lincoln logs or those new toys called Lego or anything he wanted! He was so excited and had no idea where this came from. He grinned even further when he saw the truck's doors actually opened! Dave turned it over and over in his hand and in his peripheral vision, he saw something move.

Dave looked up. There was a female mannequin, dressed in a trim, olive skirt and a Joan Crawford blouse. But instead of Dave seeing the dummy's shoes, he saw a little boy. Dave blinked and could only see one eye on the boy and a third of his head. He was hiding behind the display and Dave cocked his head to the right. In response, the boy did nothing, just staring at him like he was a boy at recess.

over and over in his hand and in his peripheral vision, he saw something move.

Dave looked up. There was a female mannequin dressed in a trim, olive skirt and a Joan Crawford blouse. But instead of Dave seeing the dummy's shoes, he saw a little boy. Dave blinked and could only see one eye on the boy and a third of his head. He was hiding behind the display and Dave cocked his head to the right. In response, the boy did nothing, just staring at him like he was a boy at recess.

Dave opened his mouth to say something and the other boy dipped his head. So Dave closed his mouth, cradling the truck, and a few seconds later, one eyeball popped up behind display. Hoping to distract himself, the boy traced his finger along the mannequin's foot and Dave grinned. That seemed to be the icebreaker that was needed and the boy slowly stood up.

Of course, he didn't go anywhere. Dave watched this thin, blonde boy look at him with his wide, green eyes. A weird kind of standoff occurred and just then, a noise could be heard from across the way. The boys flipped their heads towards the counter.

"Here ya' go!" Paul announced, carrying a hanger and a newly tailored shirt.

The customer looked at it with a critical eye and said, "That'll do."

"Would you like to try it on?" Paul offered.

"No, thank you. I need to get back to the office. I've wasted enough time here."

Paul scowled a little bit and then resumed smiling. "If you'd like, Mr…?"

"Smythe. MR. Smythe."

"Mr. Smythe." Paul confirmed. "Well then, if you'd like, you can have a discount for your next tailoring "

"No need." Mr. Smythe coldly said. "I need to consider whether Kresge's would provide me with what I need."

Paul didn't like the comment at all but kept his sales' charm. "Oh, I think we can provide you with what you need, Mr. Smythe. Kresge's would make you wait whereas I…" he proudly glanced around his store, ignoring Dave and his bare toes, "can help you right away."

"I see. Well, as long as you're being helpful, could I take a closer look at these ties?"

"Certainly, Mr. Smythe! Certainly!"

The two men walked towards the tie counter and once again, Dave lost interest. So, he found the boy again but this time, this kid trekked a little closer to him. Dave was huge in comparison. The boy was lithe and seemed frail. But those eyes projected a kind of confidence Dave didn't quite understand. He had an erect posture and the way he moved his hands along everything hypnotized the tailor tyke.

When Dave looked back up, he could see that the boy was staring at the red truck. Dave grinned.

"You like it?" Dave asked. "I found it just a minute ago and…" he looked at the boy critically, "Is this yours?"

The boy didn't answer.

"Well?! Is it yours?"

Again, the boy didn't answer.

"Hey! Cat got your tongue? I said, is it-?"

"Y-yes." He replied.

For half a second, Dave looked a little sad. The truck was so boss and so solid. But it wasn't his. So, reluctantly, Dave extended it to him. But the boy didn't take it at first. Instead, he stared at the bigger kid almost in wonder.

"Y…you're giving it…back?" he stammered.

Dave looked confused. "Well, yeah. It's yours, ain't it?"

He didn't seem to know what to say. The boy scratched his jaw and said, "Y-yeah."

Dave extended it further. "Well then, here. Take it."

Tiny fingers almost dropped it when he had it back in his possession. But instead, he stared at the bigger kid and noticed that when he smiled, he looked like St. Nicholas. That made him laugh and Dave narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Dave demanded. "Laughing at my clothes? My shoes?"

The boy immediately stopped but didn't know what to say. Dave now glared at the kid and didn't like him anymore. And when the boy tried to say something else, they heard a strong voice from afar.

"Sebastian?"

The boy with the truck flipped his head. "Yeah, dad?"

"Come along. We have to get back. Let's go."

"Solid, dad."

Dave backed up, allowing Mr. Smythe and his son through the room. With a final wave, Paul watched him go and Dave watched this kid go too. The bells dinged over the entrance and with a huffed flurry, the Smythes were gone. Dave put his hands on his hips and when he turned around, Paul had done the same.

"Must be nice." Bob quietly said to Paul.

"What?" Paul responded.

"Must be nice to be the richest lawyer in Lima."

Paul huffed. "I guess. Did you see that weird kid of his?"

"Yeah." Bob said, straightening the tie rack Mr. Smythe messed up, "Kid seemed funny too. Just hid around with the dumb truck of his."

Paul lost interest and looked for his son. "Dave?"

"Yeaaaah?" Dave answered.

"Come on back here son. You need to do your arithmetic."

"Alright!"

Dave took one last glance at the Smythes as they walked away. He could still even hear their shoes clicking on the sidewalk. He let his hands drop from his hips and ran to the back of the shop. Had he stayed just a second longer, he would've seen Sebastian turn and look back too.

.

 **AN: Soooo, what do you all think? Continue or nah?**

 **I don't know how often this will be updated but I'll try. Thank you for reading... Until next time, peace!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3**


End file.
